Recovery
Fox Hunt, Chapter Eleven
(Board gifted by @under-sengoku-skies)
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Thank you @rainyluneotome for beta reading!
TW: combat, gunfire, mention of death
~*~
Croatia was mostly a peaceful country but a known terrorist group had recently moved in and started snatching young people for their cause. Men forced to fight for ideals that weren't their own and women were either used for the men's entertainment here or trafficked internationally to other terrorist cells.
That's where she came in. Her newest command position set her-- and her squad-- as judge, jury, and executioners unless otherwise stated in mission briefings. Guilt had already been determined for their newest targets and they were hours away from takedown. Sleep was deserved…
“Mabel!”
Macon's scream jolted her awake the very moment Mark yanked her from the cot. Dirt dusted her face as she hit the ground, rolling on instinct just as stray bullets blasted through her pillow. She didn't bother asking either of her brothers what was happening. She'd find out later... if they survived that is.
Gunfire and agonized screams sounded on the other side of the tent. Soldiers were being butchered. Her soldiers. Her squad she had led to the outskirt of known enemy territory. Her gut had told her to move on to safer grounds but that required time the victims didn't have.
She had led them to slaughter.
“Mabel!” It was Mark’s voice now that called to her in a stage whisper. His face was the emotionless mask he usually boasted on all their previous missions and the familiarity grounded her. They’d get through this, they always did. She pulled both tact knives from her belt with an exaggerated flex of the fingers, the age old sign they used since childhood signaling she was ready to move.
The three slipped from the tent as a unit, successfully ambushing a passing enemy trio from behind and making quick work of their throats. Macon looted two rifles as his eyes scanned the vicinity from point. Mabel’s eyes caught sight of a flash to her right and sprinted the distance to terminate the threat, leaving Mark to take rear point.
Mabel’s target spotted her too late, his warning shout to comrades was drowned out by his own blood filling his lungs from the new holes she’d given him. His fall allowed her to steal his weapon easily, flipping it to her perspective as she gripped her spare blade in her teeth. Three new targets cleared a tent corner and dropped cleanly as her shots blasted through their craniums.
Mark and Macon flanked her as they crept through the hellfire that rained through the camp. Together, they picked off all intruders that crossed their path but screams and gunfire still rang into the night from the opposite camp side.
“How many shots y'all have left? I got six.” Macon growled.
“Ten,” Mark quipped.
“Five,” Mabel moaned. She'd be able to make the few bullets count but dropping to find a new rifle would be out of the question once the fire flew. “We'll grab what we can and pick off as many as possible. Then--”
“No,” Macon snapped. “You two make for the trees and get out of here. I'll find Rica and Jules and we'll rendezvous at Nonna Lorenza's in Venice.”
“No,” Mark snapped back to the elder sibling. “You won't make it far with just six shots. We do this together or not at all. Jules wouldn't want you going alone and I need to see Rica safe with my own eyes.”
Mabel met Macon's gaze and nodded her agreement. “ ‘The family that slays together…’ Let's go get our girls.”
~*~
MC always knew it would be a bloody end for her but never did see think she’d relive the worse night of her life once more. The past had haunted her sleeping hours and robbed her of precious rest for the better part of the last decade, couldn't it let her die in peace?
The sandpaper down her throat told her ‘no’. She’d been screaming in her sleep-- the only time she ever did-- while that blood painted scene replayed before her unconscious vision. The sandpaper also meant she was still alive. Still denied reunion with her brothers of both blood and bond.
Then again… maybe living was her Hell? It certainly felt like it right now. She couldn't move, an invisible concrete block restricted her arms. She couldn't see, a piercing light washed her vision in white. And she needed water almost as much as the time she had been stranded in the Sahara for two days.
And what was that buzzing sound? Were mosquitoes to be apart of her personal Hell, too?
“I draw the line…”
The buzzing stopped and a merciful angel of darkness blocked the blinding light. Something must have pleased the angel because they extended a cooling touch to her forehead and chuckled softly.
“I have been called many things… but never an angel.”
I know that voice! Hallelujah!
“Right now… you're my angel. Just… keep out the light.”
The cooling touch continued in soft strokes down her cheek and jaw. The lapse between strokes seemed to last an eternity and she leaned into them as much as the invisible block pinning her down would allow. “I'll stay then and keep the light out. Ieyasu is fixing you something to help you rest easier…”
Oh, so you're a devil after all?
“No… no sleep…”
“You need it, Dearest.”
She pulled away from the coolness, as if she could escape her prison. “No… I can't… can’t watch again.”
The coolness found her at the same moment a glorious liquid crossed her tongue, quenching the desert sands of her esophagus. “You won't have to… Just rest.”
The sweet chill of the angel’s touch and voice remained as darkness overcame the light, pulling her into the first deep slumber she had in years.
~*~
The light was the first thing she was aware of as her eyes creaked open. It didn't hurt like last time and revealed she was in her own room. A breeze danced through the window and greeted with the freshness of a new day to clear the lingering fog of her mind.
Why am I still in bed? I have work to do!
“The only thing you have to worry about is rest.” A hand swooped in keep her head pinned to the pillow. The cool touch reminded her of the dark angel she dreamed of. Only now she wasn't dreaming but this angel really did dress in white.
A fire blazed to life beneath her ribs as she fell back to the mat. “Oh, I recognize this pain! Guess I wasn't as fine as I thought I was… How long have I been out?”
“This is the fourth morning. Though, you did stir several times. We had to restrain you before the wound reopened.”
That explains the invisible block… She knew she had a tendency to scream and thrash about when the nightmare came. How many times had she woken on the floor tangled in the sheets? How many black eyes had RM or JR earned when they tried to wake her from the past terrors? The reason she preferred a nighttime workout was so she’d be too exhausted to dream, but bloody fights always triggered and called its presence as a siren’s song lured sailors.
Focusing on Mitsuhide, she could see dark circles lining his bloodshot golden irises. Shoulders slumped forward as if only his will kept him sitting up. White tufts of hair stuck out in various places, no doubt from scrubbing his hands through to keep awake. What have her screams been doing to him?
It took every ounce of strength she could muster to pull her hand from the covers and raise it to his cheek, relishing in the weight of his head in her hand. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
His hair swayed side to side as he shook his head in her hand and he covered her fingers with his own. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Mitsuhide, you look as bad as I feel! That's a lot to apologize for.”
He chuckled at that and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “Your color has returned. Do you remember anything from that evening?”
“I remember it ending very differently than I’d hoped.”
“Ah, that it did,” he smirked as he wrapped her hand between both of his, dragging a slow kiss across her knuckles. “Anything else?”
“All of it,” she sighed. “I remember tunnel visioning, I didn't even feel those two creep up on me before it was too late. I remember a mouthful of blood…”
“Mmm, yes, and because of that, you've earned a few new titles. Tales of Azuchi’s Rasetsu have already been heard in town while the soldiers speak of a Lady Akaoni.”
Her eyebrows knitted together. “I understand the ‘man-eater’, but why a red-horned demon?”
“To be fair, you didn't see the mess your hair was in when Masamune and the real night guard arrived.”
That earned a laugh she regretted as her wound objected to the merriment, forcing a grimace as she spoke. “Masa is okay? What kept him detained?”
“Yes, he is fine. There was an ambush in the north part of the castle, meant to serve as a distraction, but I'm sure they didn't anticipate Masamune patrolling the perimeter himself instead of holed up in an office somewhere. There were four of them and they weren't very talented swordsmen. Although, one did almost have him…” the weight of his head rested fully in her hand as his eyes fluttered closed.
“Mitsu, tell me.”
“The young guard he was training took the blow in his place. There was nothing we could do aside from ensure a warrior’s ceremony.”
The one Masa was training…? “One of my maids’ son?”
A single nod in response.
She rose from the floor as far as her shoulders before that searing flame in her side blazed to life again and sent her crashing back to the mat as Mitsuhide pinned her shoulders in place.
“What in the blazes do you think you're doing?!”
“I have-- I have to go see her,” she gritted through the pain. “Those men tried to tote me off. I was the target. All this was because of me.” Again.
His hair swayed across her brow now as he shook his head at her again. “None of this is your fault and you can speak with her later if you wish but, for now, you need to rest. We've managed to stave off any infection but you still need to regain your strength.”
“Eh, I've had worse scrapes than this. I'll be up before long now.”
“Yes, I'm sure you'll be up by the time I return.”
“Return?” That ensnared her attention. Where are you going?”
His hand returned to stroking her forehead, eyes drifting to the window. “Away.”
Ah, can't say. Azuchi's rat must still be on the loose.
She released a sigh and tugged his robe to bring his gaze back to hers, forcing a smile through the pain for him. “Just don't make yourself a martyr. In fact, I'd like you to take these.”
Reaching into her kimono, she retrieved the trio of pendants that had called the chain around her neck ‘home’ for the last five years. “Nobu calls me his good luck charm, well… these are mine.”
A single white brow arched as Mitsuhide ran the chain through his fingers and inspected the small plates. “The writing on these match the print on your back. What do these talismans say?”
“They're not talismans,” she chuckled darkly. “Back home we call them ‘dog tags’. Soldiers wear two matching tags so they can be easily identified if they fall during battle.”
His second brow joined the first as he blinked down to her. “That does not sound like a favorable fortune to wear around your neck, Dearest. Why do you have a third then?”
“One is mine. The other two belonged to my brothers, Macon and Mark Clements. They were always trying to look after me and having those just feels right. Imagine having two Hideyoshis, but one of them with Masa’s prankster attitude, and you have my brothers with me as their Mitsunari.” His sudden laughter brought a smile to her as she continued. “And they are lucky. My other one still has the head of a bullet that was meant for my heart implanted in it. So, please, wear them. You can give them back when you return. I'm not going anywhere. And… I'll try to have an answer for you on staying here.”
Days of exhaustion seemed to evaporate off his shoulders. She loved that cunning smirk of his but the rare, beautiful smile it melted into curled her toes with glowing warmth. Warmth that only continued to spread as he leaned down to trail a searing path of slow kisses across her brow, cheek, nose, until finally claiming her lips as he meant to the night of the attack.
“I look forward to it, Dear One.”
~*~
Mitsuhide left at dusk after visiting once more and ensuring Masa’s soup made its way to her stomach. Masa retrieved her finished bowl himself and to inform them that Mitsuhide’s horse was ready for departure.
Nobu sat with her that night.
“I don't sleep much anyway,” he gave as a way of answer when she arched her brows at him when he settled against the wall.
“As my current position as Chatelaine proves, that is a lie.”
“Perhaps,” a self-deprecating chuckle before his eyes rolled back to her. “What do the markings on your back mean?”
She turned her eyes to the ceiling. “Just a means of atonement.”
“Atonement? Why--”
“Not something I wish to speak of.”
She could feel his eyes on her as as heavy as the silence settling over them. “They have something to do with the nightmares?”
She clenched her jaw to keep from snapping at him. She knew he was just curious and possibly trying to lull her to sleep with small talk. This particular subject was never small for her but, if she remained quiet, maybe he’d drop it.
After another loaded silence, he released a heavy sigh. “As curious as I am to learn how one such a you acquired the skills I've witnessed, I won't force you to relive the battles of your past. But… I dislike disruptions in my home, my little fireball. I simply need to know that this recent incident won't cause further distraction.”
Ah, of course. Gotta keep the machine running and well oiled, eh? I can respect that. “I’m used to managing my terrors, Nobu, and they do not interfere with my daily work. They'll dissipate once I’m back on my feet.”
The intense stare he leveled her with almost took the breath from her. It was the exact one Macon used when he thought she had lied to him. And just like Macon, Nobu's shoulders relaxed once he found she hadn't. “Do try to sleep, fireball. I’ll wake you should your terrors catch you again.”
She would have replied, if not for the sudden lump in her throat that refused to budge. Instead, she willingly surrendered to the darkness.
~*~
The warm sunshine of the garden welcomed her with open arms as she reclined under the wisteria.
Having spent an additional two mornings in bed pushed her past the end of her patience and the entire room sickened her in ways unrelated to her injury. Fresh air was what she needed and that was what she was going to get. Flames of pain still ignited around the wound but the blazes were diminishing more and more with each new morning, enabling her to redress the wound herself for the first time with the modern medical supplies she always packed her purse with.
Now, it was time for some good old Vitamin D while hiding from the mother hen--
“Princess!”
Damn. Mission failed. Note to self: Locate and recruit any of Hideyoshi’s descendants because-- hot damn-- those tracking skills!
“Do you know how worried I--” his march across the garden ended abruptly before muttering a curse under his breath, no doubt noticing the peculiar arrangement of her kimono; uncovered arms and shoulders, thighs-to-toes bared to the sun. “What are you doing?”
She snickered at the changed projection of his voice and finally peeped her eyes open to find him facing the way he came. “It's called ‘sunbathing’. Quite common back home and a favorite pastime of mine actually. I don't have the proper protection from the direct sun but it is bright enough here under the shade.”
“Princess, you really shouldn't be… lying about… like that… let me give you my kimono.” The blush creeping over his ears could be heard in his voice.
“That would defeat the purpose of sunbathing. I do all my best thinking like this. Besides, you seem to the only one here persistent enough to actually find me so you can either go back the way you came or you can join me. Either way, I need silence.” She finished while crossing one ankle over the other to emphasize her indifference.
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Hideyoshi settled into the grass facing away from her. Now, to tackle the issue at hand...
Or… is it even an issue at all? She wasn’t born of this time. Yes, she could blend in and quack like the other ducks but that was a skill of survival. Everything up to now has simply been a means to an end coming up in six weeks. Was this really something she could live with?
Despite the war time hardened lifestyle, the people and land here held a measure of peace she had never encountered before. But when would that peace run out? This era is named for the wars that shaped it. It would be the gamble of a-- literal-- lifetime to remain here with only the hope that her miniscule interference of pulling one man from a burning building would be enough to secure a better future.
And what of RM and JR? After everything they've been through already, her disappearance would be the final nails in their coffins. Both had international connections that could very well burn the world to the ground if those two so much as suspected foul play.
Her family… Her career…
Mitsuhide…
Could she really be so selfish?
~*~
Two evenings later, she found herself waiting at the stable. Mitsuhide’s personal page returned that morning with news of his lord's expected arrival in the afternoon. After ensuring the maids work and renovation schedule, she had taken over the grooming jobs from the stable hands and set out to clearing the horses manes of tangles and debris.
RM's mother came from generations of Texan ranchers and still continued equestrian breeding for race horses. MC always found it calming helping with the animals during the few free summer days she had with RM and JR. How easy it was to fall back into that easy pattern of care.
“And you say you don't sing.”
“Mitsuhide!” Her head snapped up at the voice entering the gate and she met him halfway in his path to the stable. “I wasn't singing.”
He grinned down at her. “Of course not, my mistake. As you can see, I have returned. Do you have an answer for me, dear Chatelaine?”
“Now?” She squeaked, freezing in her tracks as he circled his horse around her. Here is definitely not the place to hash this out!
His lips tilted into that smirk she missed the last several days. “Oh? Has the resident rasetsu turned into a little mouse in my absence? Might be fun to plan a chase then.”
“You will lose! But yes, I mostly have an answer.”
“ ‘Mostly’?”
“Well, it's not exactly an easy answer. There's choices and conditions to be heard… are you getting off the horse or not?”
His golden gaze never left her just as that smirk refused to falter while he continued to trot in circles, raising her curiosity.
“Why?” She switched tactics. “If I gave you an out right ‘yes’, what would do?”
Finally halting his steed beside her, Mitsuhide’s eyes glinted with a predatory gleam as he gracefully dismounted. She watched with open curiosity as he marched to her but only when he opened his arms did she think to take a step back too late. Without a care as to who witnessed the display, his arms swooped under her hips and lifted her into the air against him. A shriek of surprised laughter escaped her as she was spun in the air.
“Is this is a sufficient answer to your ‘if’,” that predatory edge never left his gaze as he settled her back on her feet, ignoring the stunned silence of the passing stable hands.
She could feel her own face flush by the open act. Oh, come on girl! You've been in far more publicly compromising positions before and never even blinked.
“I take it you tracked down our rodent problem?”
His smirk was triumphant now. “I found a few leads. I also have a gift on its way here that I'm sure you'll enjoy.”
“A… you what?” What does he mean a gift?
“You'll see in the next few days--”
“I don't like surprises.”
“But first, I must speak with Nobunaga and Hideyoshi with what I've discovered.” He lifted a lock of her hair to his lips in parting, pointedly deflecting her statement.
Her eyes followed after him. What has gotten into him, blowing through like a whirlwind and leaving like that?
His pace around the corner slowed just enough for him to glance over his shoulder at her, that knowing smirk back in place as if he hadn't just caused her to question his sanity.
Oh, dear Kitsune, this is part of your game, is it?
She glanced into the town before her as a plan formed. He was wrong if he thought she wouldn't be up for a little Cat-n-Mouse.
~*~
The kimono crafter had always been popular among the town for the sixteenth century version of window shopping. However, wartime meant less spending on pretty things and-- despite the constant flow of people in and out the door-- the elder tailor had been struggling financially. So when he heard the bell of his stall's flap signal a potential customer, he was half-tempted to ignore it completely.
Now he wished he had.
His wife was happy to help with the foreign princess’ need while he was still trying connect the garments in their hands with the stated occasion. Lord Oda was taking her on a game trail? Then why did she prefer the sheer fabrics? Surely, the softer cotton would be better for sport.
“I'm sorry, my Lady, but what kind of game did you say you would be hunting?”
The Princess glanced up to him and he could have swore he saw a flash of pink dust her features before she turned back to his wife with a conspiratorial grin. “Foxes.”
~☆~
